seekevolution | Summer

Summer

Though Mohinder didn't buy into the saying that there could be such a thing as love at first sight, the way that Simon Petrelli looked at Molly when they were first introduced made him reconsider and then immediately close his thoughts so Matt wouldn't worry. Mohinder gently pulled her long hair back from her shoulder so his hand could rest upon it, Molly in a bright red and yellow sundress,and said shoulder covered by a small yellow half jacket. They'd both been pleased to find it at Walmart on the drive up from Fort Lee to Maine, taking the long, scenic route even though Peter had offered them a chance to teleport.

Why teleport when they could have more time together and see the country? Molly needed a little break away from enclosed spaces and the forests along their mountain roads in New York and at the southern border of Canada was just the ticket.

Of course, there had been blighted areas, places where the virus had broken out, or worse, where communities had closed their doors and grown violent. They had just guided their black SUV around the problem areas and stuck to rural hotels on the interstate.

Now, standing in the foyer of what looked like another hotel and yet, knowing it was a family summer retreat, Mohinder could feel Molly yearning to go explore...and the eldest of Peter's nephews more than willing to guide her.

They were both the same age. They'd both been without playmates (what nearly twelve year old counts their brother as a playmate?) for a long while. Mrs. Petrelli, gracious despite her furtive glances at Matt, finally gave them the go head. "Show Molly to her room. Gently, Simon. She's not one of your trucks." Molly glanced back up at Mohinder and he nodded.

"I'll come find you shortly."

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There had been plenty of times that Matt cornered him to get his point across and many more times that he'd tried to act the bear and stare him down before. Their fights have never been that sort of physical, Matt never touched him violently, but he could certainly scare Mohinder. He was doing so even now.

You don't love him any more.

That thought struck Mohinder as strange and he tested it ought before rejecting him. He did love Matt. He felt it even now, the tingle in his belly that went against everything he'd been doing over the last two weeks. Tears threatened to hit him but he rejected them, clinging onto his notion that he'd not been understood. That Matt had been neglecting him.

He'd reached out to someone that might not make him feel so worthless--

Mohinder stared at his feet.

"What else?" He's calling you a whore. "I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're asking." His jaw lifted and he gritted his teeth. "What are you implying?"

There had been even more times when Matt had cornered Mohinder just to press against him, to trap him so he wouldn't escape when he'd dip his head down to kiss his neck and sneak his hands under his shirt. Originally, when Matt had loomed over him like this, it had been about the intimidation. Then it hadn't been. It was like they'd finally gone full circle.

"Wh- no, not that", Matt said quickly in response. He hadn't thought about it like that, that hadn't been what he' meant - but now he was thinking about it. Not that it might've happened, but that it could, and it twisted the pain and the anger around even more. "I mean- what else to do you want to say?"

There had to be more than that. There had to be something. He found himself closer still, looking down at Mohinder but not quite within touching distance yet. His voice felt tight.

"Might as well say all of it now, right?"

Oh, he didn't mean to be bitter, but his tone definitely was. How else was he supposed to react?

Mohinder had kissed Peter. Peter. He'd kissed him when Matt should've been able to trust him, when Matt had believed that they could be happy.

And it hurt so deeply because Matt loved Mohinder, too. He did. And the slight movement in his mind that wasn't his own that insisted that he didn't was mostly brushed aside. He didn't register it. He was too caught up in the look in Mohinder's eyes.

"What else?" So it was just going to be now then? Tell him everything. Every slight, every disgust. He asked. Mohinder could just push the door behind him and escape. He could turn the knob and be knocked back into the hallway. He could run. You saw him hurt people before. One thought--

Mohinder's eyes widened. Matt was beyond dangerous. He nearly killed a man-- He could hurt Peter for this-- Hurt him. Mohinder tried his best to be stronger than he knew he was and gritted perfect, white teeth together.

"I thought I could do this." He wasn't specific enough and Matt's mind could easily supply Mohinder's uneasiness with himself and with nothing to do to be indicative of unhappiness in his relationship. And that wouldn't be wrong. "I don't know what happened, exactly, but I'm not handling it well. I'm unhappy."

He'd said as much before. Maury could easily fill in the blanks. Though Mohinder was talking about himself, Matt's father hardly had to push that the Indian was being disparaging towards their relationship.

"This isn't working."

Matt had this pained smile when he threw his hands up. Humor had always been a bit of a coping mechanism for him - or if not humor, then at least self-depricating sarcasm, because if he took a jab at himself before the world did, it'd hurt less. So he threw his hands up and said "Yeah, clearly", and made to turn away, except he couldn't do that.

Because this was Mohinder. He couldn't possibly walk away from him, let this be unresolved. He turned back to him with an urgency that brought him even closer and here was a moment of tension and silence between them.

That's when the thoughts hit him, as something in his own mind gave way to the loud rush of Mohinder's. There was fear there. Mohinder was scared of him.

Well. That hurt even more. Mohinder had said once that he wasn't afraid of him, but he was. And scared for Peter, too. Matt felt suddenly very frustrated because he wasn't like that, he wasn't, he knew he could be and he knew how easy it'd be to just undo all of this or change it to his liking but he wasn't like that ...

"Stop that", he said, or it was more like a bark, because the hurt was just as bad as his anger. He had a hand on the opposite wall, bringing him closer to Mohinder but still not touching him. "Stop."

Insisting.

"What, so- so isn't this working, or is it that you don't want it to?"

Because Matt's telepathy was often one way, being told to 'stop that' didn't exactly come with context. Mohinder simply quieted. He'd been talking, after all, perhaps thinking of fleeing. His lips pressed shut in a straight line and his hand fell from the knob. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Matt. They could not afford screaming matches here, not like they use to have when Molly was in bed or in her room with the music on.

Mohinder struggled to keep his natural need to sass out of the equation too. He swallowed. Tried to man up. His jaw remained set.

"I tried," he responded, but only after a moment of watching Matt step even closer and being asked, specifically. "I've spoken to you, tried to talk it out." Until Matt seemed to stop being willing to deal with it. They struggled. Mohinder tried to find his happiness again. Matt mostly rambled on. Without Molly as their glue -- she was always off with Simon these days -- it seemed that they had nothing in common again. Not even a cause to fight for, or against, or live through. "I'm tried, Matt. Don't pretend I haven't. What have you done? Drank some beer, watched some sports, sat around?"

Frustration was making him angry and upset.

He's lost interest more than you have--

"You haven't even tried to touch me in over two weeks!"

"Because you're never even here!" Matt hissed back. "You're always with Peter and- oh, I guess I know why now, don't I?"

He was glaring. He was probably unfair to try to lobby the blame back onto Mohinder, but he didn't think about it that way. It was justified. Mohinder had kissed Peter, had spent all that time with him, had probably wanted to do it, and that was on him, not on Matt.

Matt wanted Mohinder. That was all. If he wasn't enough for Mohinder, then -- well.

Honestly, he'd expected that, too. Mohinder was way out of his league, he'd said that before, had been thinking it, but ... he hadn't expected Mohinder to betray him. Mohinder knew him better than anyone else and he trusted him.

He did come clean, he reminded himself, but something crushed that thought before it was fully formed.

"Do you even want me to touch you anymore? Or is it Peter you want? Huh?"

"Peter doesn't even look at me," Mohinder hissed, which was utterly the wrong thing to say, no matter what the soft, inner monologue of his internal voice said. It was calming. Reassuring. Peter was the better match. The better choice. He was alone and hurting. Matt had been with a woman for years, longer than Mohinder had been in school. What did it matter if he wanted a little spice now and again? It wore off, whatever magic you had. He'd been so disgusted at first and you know it. Stockholm Syndrome might have set it. He loves you now because there's no one else.

The consolation prize? Mohinder's face fell in defeat through nothing Matt said at all. His mind was bunched up, almost like it was getting ready to pull itself to tatters with one good yank.

"I want to be useful to someone," Mohinder said, showing his own insecurities. "I want to do something with my life. I thought that life should include you but-- Obviously you're content enough with the status quo and a reprise of your loveless, sexless marriage."

Again, nothing he ought to have said.

He doesn't love you. Just the idea of you.

"Maybe if you took a second to notice me, to see me as I am, you'd understand. You're telepathic, Matt. You can't tell me that you don't know what I want by now!"

Matt could read minds now without any particular effort, but he still tilted his head slightly in that familiar way that meant he was listening. Maybe he wanted Mohinder to see that he was taking him up on that, whether it was a challenge or an offer. Mohinder wouldn't be able to argue about anything Matt found there, after all. Not when they were his own thoughts.

He looked Mohinder in the eyes. Something about telepathy always came easier with eye contact, but it was partially because he wanted to look at him. Wanted to see how he'd react.

Because he was still carried by the momentum of his anger, and that meant he was aggressive. He didn't raise his voice but every word was a jab.

"How the hell would I know when you have no idea? All you can think about is what you don't want. You don't- don't want this, don't want- Jesus, is there anything you want other than making an exit right now?"

Aggressive, yes. Aggressive was a good word for it. Mohinder had never actually tried to fight Matt off before, never tried to close doors, but he felt himself under a terrible attack. Felt his hurt and anger rising to meet Matt halfway and in a sort of pathetic fit to 'show' Matt, he locked and chained down his mind with dental floss and good intentions.

Of course, Matt Parkman could barge right through, though he'd certainly not tried to hurt Mohinder. The Indian's struggle did it for him and blood trickled across Mohinder's lips as he stared, unblinking, up into eyes he'd once orgasmed to.

Angrily, Mohinder wiped the blood from his lips, smearing crimson across his fingertips, without looking down at it.

"I want to be considered," Mohinder spat out, his hands shaking now as the voices in his head died away. He had no idea that they were hiding, unwilling to let Matt see them as they were. "I want my life back. I miss the man I was before all of this!"

Truth, yes.

Still, something that didn't have to be said.

He stopped the mental struggle because it hurt too much and Mohinder's thoughts and mind were spread out and bare and bleeding for Matt to run through all he'd like.

That's where Matt should have stopped. Where he should have - and did - flash back to the harm he'd done Angela, to all the harm he'd caused in New York, at one point bodies laid out around him, all of them pacified with the simple command to stop and sleep and then they were gone for long enough for him and Peter to get to the supplies and get out of there ...

Maybe Mohinder was right to be scared of him. Especially when something else was brushing his anger like kindling, keeping it alive.

He didn't realize. His own judgment was clouded.

He found a memory. Sylar. Zane. He dug it up and brought it to the forefront of Mohinder's mind.

"What man? The guy everybody used?"

He found another. A boyfriend. Experiments. He found Bennet and Bob, each of them pulling Mohinder in different directions to suit their own needs.

"You really want to be that guy?"

It was cruel. It was unfair. Mohinder was bleeding and Matt was blind.

"I never used you", he said, dropping his voice. "I never did. And you want to throw that away because you're scared."

It happened too fast for Mohinder to even flinch. He watched and listened and was forced to remember his life with such a great ease that it was impossible to fight it. Even if he thought himself able. He was too tired. Memories moved like flash cards, flicked against his forehead to see and then be dashed away again.

"Scared?" Yes, you're scared. Only stupid men would not be scared of this monster. Mohinder ignored that. Matt was not a monster. No matter what that thought might have tried to get him to believe. He threw it away as if it was nothing. The rest, however, they were piling up like mud against a wall. Mohinder had no armour against these attacks.

He was powerless.

"Bored," he spat out, tasting his own blood. His hands trembled as they made another go of it, wiping away the sticky fluid before he could taste more. "Tired of working for what you obviously do not care about."

This isn't love. He doesn't love you!

And finally, Mohinder came to believe it. Tears stung his eyes and he let himself slump back. He couldn't keep up with the blood. He was not Angela Petrelli. He wasn't strong. Not like this.

"Please, Matt, stop," he said. It was not a beg. Not yet.

Matt was trembling with energy, with the potential of it all - and he didn't think the words but it was dug up in his head still, the memory, the it becomes so much more - there was so much he could do here. He could do anything.

But why would he? Why would he want to? He didn't want to hurt Mohinder. He was bleeding and crying and he wasn't standing up for himself anymore, not even physically, and that energy that Matt was holding onto fractured when he suddenly took that in.

It turned into small fragments of mental power. Small glass shards of thoughts that Matt had to keep in his own head or he'd hurt someone. Mohinder. Would hurt him even worse.

He didn't want to.

He wanted to.

He didn't, not for anything in the world. But the anger was still there, even as he backed away finally, pushed away and let go and instead pulled both his hands through his hair.

"I care!" he said after a moment, an urgency in his voice. "You have no idea what you mean to me, Mohinder, no idea. I can't just ..."

Trailed off. What was he saying? Something anguished. His mind felt confused. Big, endless. And conflicted. What was he doing?

Just a bully.

Mohinder didn't realise he'd been dropped to the floor, his knees betraying him. He'd given up, that much was true. Given up and left go. He'd sunk. The hardwood floor by the door was cool in the early August evening. Not that long ago, he and Matt had packed Molly up to the beach. They'd played in the sand and lost their family by breakfast the next morning.

"You care." Just a whisper. How could he care? "I have no idea what I mean to you." He lifted his hands, palms smeared with his own blood.

Mohinder knew.

He could feel it between his lips and his teeth. He could taste it and it was like metal. Unsavory. Wicked.

You did this. The rancid words were turned immediately back on him and Mohinder swallowed it down as he struggled to his knees so that Matt could see the proof of his caring. You deserve this. He's right. There's something wrong with you.

"Is this proof?" His head ached.

More blood.

His first boyfriend caused him to bleed. Bob Bishop and Noah Bennet made him bleed too. Zane. Sylar. Oh, he'd bled so much for Sylar, hadn't he? And now Matt, he was bleeding for him now. Faggot.

The hands of men did this.

You deserve worse.

He did. He was nothing.

Matt struggled a moment longer with what was happening to him and then when he ... when he gathered himself, he finally truly saw what was happening to Mohinder. And the anger melted from him thickly and slowly while he stood and stared, but it did, and it had stained him deeply and he knew he'd crossed some kind of threshold, but now he could only try to deal with what was there.

He swallowed. He cautiously approached Mohinder again but made himself smaller. Tried to, anyway.

"I - Mohinder ..."

His voice was quiet and regretful when he leaned to offer Mohinder a hand, but when Mohinder seemed to shy away from even that, looked scared - felt scared, it was loud in his head - Matt felt it like another punch.

Well. He'd earned that one.

He hesitated and then sank to his knees in front of Mohinder and reached for his shoulders.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, looking at the blood. "Sorry, I didn't ... never again." Thickly. But they both knew he couldn't promise that.

It had been good, that power.

It had been scary.

Maury subtly tightened some strings.

Pushing Matt left a bloody hand print on a soft gray t-shirt. It had been unintentional to leave a mark there but it couldn't be helped right now. As Matt sunk to his level, all Mohinder wanted to do was get away. Even so, he allowed him his words, allowed him to see what anger could do.

They both deserved that look in Matt's eyes.

I pushed him into it. Mohinder's own thoughts. He could almost smell the evilness of it. The smugness. He didn't know how to cope properly with it except to get away.

Never again? "You're right," Mohinder said, getting to his feet. "Never again." He shouldn't take Molly away but he couldn't leave her here. A tantrum from Matt could kill the poor girl.

It nearly had once before when Matt sent her against Maury.

"We're leaving," he said, carefully now, pushing the door open behind him. Peter was in the hall, rounding the corner to head to his own room when he stopped as Mohinder backed himself into his path.

"Mo--" Mohinder stopped his words with a shake of the head. This wasn't Peter's fight. Even if he seemed to once more find himself in the middle again. He couldn't leave it.

Mohinder was bloody.

"What the hell?!"

Mohinder kept his eyes on Matt. "Molly and I are leaving. Tonight. Now."

Matt's heart broke. Immediately, and into so many pieces he would never find them all and much less put them together, but even as he stood and his eyes stung with tears, he looked back at Mohinder's. He saw the hurt there, the fear.

Matt had really hurt him. He had. And that hadn't even been - he could've done so much worse and he nearly had ...

Peter looked between them, wary and scared but mostly confused, and his mind touched Matt's briefly with a question but Matt didn't respond. He wasn't important. He was his friend, or had been, but he wasn't important right now.

Mohinder was. And Molly. They were his family and his world, and they were leaving.

But he understood why.

He shook his head.

"No, I ... I'll go. Let me just- let me say goodbye to her. Okay? I'll ..."

Mohinder hadn't quite been begging, but Matt already was.

Stepping aside, Mohinder watched the broken man try to find some dignity as he marched across the hall to Molly's room. He wanted to follow him, but looking like this, he couldn't. Matt would not hurt Molly. Mohinder believed that and so he slipped into the bathroom instead to wash up.

Peter stood in the hallway, trying to figure out what had happened. Mohinder evidently confessed. Had Matt hit him? Peter didn't think he could believe that.

He stood a silent guardian by Molly's room as Matt gently woke her up.

"Matt? You look sad. Bad dreams?" she asked, sitting up against her pillows. Fine, honey colored hair bunched up at her neck. She moved to hug him before she saw the blood on his shirt. "Are you hurt?!"

Matt stroked her hair and kissed her forehead as he shushed her. "No, sweetheart, it's alright, it was an accident."

An accident. It wasn't exactly a lie, except it absolutely was. Molly was pale and felt cold where he touched her, something he'd noticed increasingly lately and that Mohinder had theorised at some point was maybe because she was moving less - when she did have energy to hang out with Simon, she did, but she curled up in bed with a book or a sketch pad all too often for either of them to feel happy about it. She said she was just tired but couldn't explain why. Her eyes were slightly dimmed - a loss of spark.

And Matt didn't want to leave her because she might need him, because he was her father and wanted to protect her, because he needed her too, but he'd ... Mohinder was right. For the time being, at least, he should ... what? Collect himself?

He'd scared him. He'd scared himself. He needed to figure that out, and then they could be together again. When the dust had settled.

He sighed and tried to ignore the sting in his eyes when he drew back to look at his girl. She looked back at him, worried and fearful. And as always, she was entirely too perceptive. "Matt, what did you do?"

And then he very nearly did break into tears, but he just took a shaky breath.

"A mistake. I'm sorry, Molly, I ... I have to go away for a bit. Just- just keep Mohinder safe for me, okay?"

"You'll be back, right? Right Matt?" and he pulled her into a hug, trying to show her exactly how much he loved her.

"Yeah, of course", he whispered at her and hoped it was true. "I love you, sweetheart. Okay?"

"Okay", she agreed quietly, and Matt kissed her again before he stood. He looked at Peter for a moment. It stretched on, but then Matt broke the eye contact and went back across the hall to get the most important of his things. And to talk to Mohinder. Hopefully. He had to.

The sink was spotted and bloody. There were bloody tissues in the toilet too, to be flushed away. Mohinder was busy trying to wash everything up, to ignore the ache pounding horribly between his eyes and to try to not feel the loss already clamping down on him.

He'd never imagined a life without Matt, not even when they were parted in New York, not even when they were drifting here in Maine. That it had come to pass, that they were looking at a voluntary separation, was almost too much.

Mohinder had that masochistic side to him, however. He craved what was bad for him and though Matt had hurt him so very much, he was actually toying with the idea of forgiving him.

But what if it happened again? They weren't a good fit, he told himself, staring at the blood speckled white porcelain. They'd come together because they'd needed to. Their romance was mostly lust.

You had nothing in common.

They had nothing at all in common.

He saw the shadow behind him and looked up, eyes red, to stare at the reflection. Fear gripped him and he turned immediately. He had never been afraid of Matt before.

He's a monster. Like Sylar? It was their nature to take.

Matt felt more than a little broken, especially when Mohinder looked at him that way. He swallowed and sank back, making sure not to approach the way he had before. The way he normally would have. He kept a very safe distance between them, not touching Mohinder's personal sphere at all.

His hands were in his back pockets, his posture opened up. That wouldn't help. But it was a subconscious effort to look as small and unthreatening as possible in response to the fear in Mohinder's eyes and what he could sense of it in his mind, but he made sure to close their mental connection off. He couldn't risk anything else. And he didn't want to hear. He felt bad enough already.

"Mohinder", he started weakly, but then had to start over when his voice cut off. "Mohinder, I'm so sorry. I ... I never ... I'm sorry", and he hated himself right then, he really did, "I love you."

It was pleading and he really had no right to say that. But he already felt like he was grasping at straws. That wasn't him - hurting people like that, saying those things, that wasn't him. And he wasn't sure how to convince Mohinder of that since he didn't think he could convince himself.

Truthfully, Mohinder loved him back. Loved him sincerely no matter how far they had drifted, loved him despite yet another ransacking of his mind. Because you are weak. Because you love too quickly. Because you have no idea what love really is. The voice in his head broke him down inside and Mohinder cemented a hard, out of character look on his dark complexioned face. His lips set in a line and he lifted his head as proudly as he could.

Pushing Matt away would end up being a mistake but most of his life choices were mistakes. He had Molly to think about, if not his own well being.

Matt was lost to him. He'd played his dominance game, tore at his mind, pushed past misdeeds in his face. Another mindrape. Mohinder couldn't take another one. Not even the chance of one.

"Be that...as it may. I'll accept your apology. What I did behind your back was wrong." Though he had come clean right away. "But your choice to punish me in that way for it-- I do not think I can forget it so easily. We're-- Love does not make people right for each other. I was...hasty. Foolish. I won't keep Molly from you but for some time at least you must let me protect her. Your anger-- You need to find a way to manage what you can do or you'll end up like--"

Sylar.

Mohinder swallowed. "Like men you try to protect the world from."

Matt had a hand over his eyes when he nodded. Mohinder was right. He was all too right. Matt had - he'd thought about it before. He knew that a lot of the things he'd done in New York had been crossing a line, but the situation had justified it. He knew he'd crossed lines before, had felt sick when he'd realized how easy it was too, just from wanting something, and he'd ... talked to Mohinder about it too, how haunted he felt and how difficult it was to live with that temptation.

And here it was. He'd finally snapped. He knew he could do - well, almost anything, and that in itself was enough to scare him half to death, but he'd never thought he'd direct that kind of power towards people he loved. People who really, truly mattered.

He couldn't risk it. He had to ... just process, just go away for a moment, just ... it'd be okay after, he tried to tell himself, but he already felt a deep sense of loss. His throat was tight and he felt the tears, but he nodded.

"I never wanted ... I'm sorry", he said again, voice breaking slightly. "I'll ... will you give me a call?"

He didn't think he could bring himself to reach out first. He had no right. He'd done wrong by them.

"I'll figure it out and then ..."

No, he couldn't really finish that. It rang too hollow. He scrubbed his hand over his face and just looked at Mohinder, who was brilliant and amazing and imperfect in ways Matt knew he loved, but the rift between them was suddenly a chasm. In just one day. Just an hour, half an hour, a moment. Nice job, Parkman. Fucking flawless.

He'd never, never seen Matt look this way. He'd never seen him so upset. Reaching out, Mohinder caught himself when a voice hissed in his head not to be an idiot. He ended up crossing his arms over his chest instead just to be sure that he didn't mutiny against himself.

He nearly broke his jaw with how tightly he clenched it. "Matt--" If he left, when would he see him again? A different sort of fear crept into his stomach. "Yes. Of course I'll-- I'll have Molly call you as often as possible."

Tell him to leave.

Mohinder couldn't make himself do that...so he had to leave first himself, skirting around Matt without touching him.

"You don't have to leave...tonight. I'm going to stay with Molly." And that, hopefully, would be the end of it. He wanted to grieve silently, alone.

Losing Matt, no matter how scared he was of him, was going to break him.

Matt shook his head. He wanted to stick around - he wanted to do that so badly, and he found himself toying with the idea of just erasing all of this, of going back to just an hour earlier, but ... no. He couldn't trust himself. He couldn't do anything like that and live with himself, either. He needed to get away. At least for the moment. He didn't want to, but he knew that he had to.

"Bye, Mohinder", he said quietly when Mohinder left the room, and then gathered the most important things. Cell phone, charger, gun, ID; keys. The car keys.

He did allow himself a mental cloak when he left the house, not wanting to be stopped by anyone on the way down. He knew Peter would likely have tried to talk to him. But Matt was a stronger telepath and Peter wouldn't notice him leaving, nor would anyone else; he'd be gone when they next looked.

He drove for a while. The roads were almost completely empty - there was still some way to go to get to the actual city and the sky was dark. Eventually he parked near a side road, killed the engine and pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, just stopping.

Thinking. Processing. Dying, honestly. It felt that way.

It was fortunate that the rest of the household was still asleep. This was all really late, but Peter was still up. He couldn't quite figure out what had happened, but he knew Matt was gone and that Mohinder was shaken. After Mohinder had calmed Molly down and gotten her to sleep and seemed like he was about to collapse in one way or the other, Peter quietly knocked on the door frame, entering the girl's room to get Mohinder's attention.

He really needed to figure this out. Help out, if he could. They were both his friends and it was clear that they were both torn apart by whatever had happened.

"Hey", he said gently, unsure but reassuring just from the tone he used. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

Mohinder almost tackled Peter to get him out of the room and with a push to his chest to match the bloody one he left on Matt's, he shut the door behind himself. The hall was not the right place for this conversation but there was little to be done about it. He did not want Peter in the room he and Matt had shared.

"I told him what happened. He was understandably angry and used my thoughts against me."

That was short. Simple. As to the point as possible.

And it explained the blood at Mohinder's nose. Matt hadn't physically attacked him but that would have been easier to deal with in a way. Bruises would fade from his skin. The mental scars of Matt's punishment would not.

He'd managed to keep himself stoic until he saw the look in Peter's eyes and then everything broke. His shoulders slumped and the tears came.

"It was my fault... But he had no right--" Mohinder was not a kicked dog. He could not forget the way Matt had looked in his anger.

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